Dissolving Illusions— A Process of Psychological Deprogramming

Fraught with fear, each of us has been the victim of deep programming that has taken place over the course of millennia. With our descent into this earthly plane, we have been sold this story of illusion where we were stripped of divine nature and placed into a universe that was somehow separate from us. Never mind that we contain all of the stuff that the universe is created from, no—we were sold this story of separation, creating disillusionment and amnesia of who we truly are.

Are you ready for remembrance?

Over the course of the past three years, I’ve been diving deeper into the spirituality of my native peoples. My forefathers and foremothers knew of no belief that created division but only of the One true Creator from which all of Creation derives. This Creator could be found mirrored in all of creation, as the patterns in trees modeled the pattern in human anatomy, veins coursing through taut skin make from earths dirt like roots running in the core of Gaia. A mirror of all of creation, reflections posing back up to the Creator. This spirituality forgotten the longer we stayed on this earthly plane and began to create the illusion of separateness through category, different symbols, language, culture and of course, race.

At the core of it all, we are all one, each seeking a place to call home. In their disillusionment, many may search for home in a place, a country, a temple or even a persons arms. Search we may, the answer is certain. As we continue to have this communal experience with everything in nature speaking back to us, our home is and has always been in the One from which we were never separate. In the One whom exists when all ceases to endure, when play ceases to continue and the curtains close. The witness, ever present and ever knowing.

The deprogramming is dissolving the illusion of separation created by egoic chains. The ego wishes to create this illusion of separateness to maintain the arrogant story of self-importance. In truth, we are important because we are One, not separate into fractal pieces each fighting for selfish power and domination. The infinite connection is a birthright known by our ancestors, a hidden truth they’d fought to understand. The true seeker understand that there is no truth to be sought. It has always been within, waiting to be recognized.

And so it has always been. We are here. We are whole. We are one.

Why Choosing Your Truth Leads to Success

How many times has your mind tricked you into choosing things, places and people out of fear of not being liked. Not fitting in. Not getting that job. Not being good enough.

Or perhaps being alone.

Are you tired of gaslighting yourself yet? Are you tired of always choosing others over you? Are you tired of turning away from deep intuitions, Gods simple blessings, the hunches that nurture you to your truest path? Are you tired of walking away from your highest good?

To be in a place of serving your highest good means to be in a place of nurturing ultimate fulfillment. It means to work toward your passion and purpose regardless of initial reward, dedicating yourself to honoring your truth, choosing a life of growth over comfort, expansion over contraction. It means deepening the relationship with yourself so that you can hear clearly the next step on your path. It means lingering in solitude long enough to hear the echo’s of Gods speech. And letting His speech vibrate through your being. That is what truth feels like. That is what choosing yourself feels like. Like Gods kisses are being placed along your spine. When waking up in the morning feels like a gift. When the earth and universe begin to nudge you in agreement, harmonizing with your existence. You are infinitely connected to the whole. Choose your truth.

Choose you.

Awakening the Wild Woman

As many times as I’d died, you think I’d be used to this feeling of rebirth. As I step into this new role, perhaps ancient identity—I find myself expanding in ways the physical eye cannot perceive.

I’d never enjoyed the idea of shrinking myself; of being quiet or silenced; of being docile and meek. Being raised by women daring to run against the grain to return to her nature, I’d been a witness to the unfolding process of the wild woman; as she leaves all that she has known to seek the bounty of the divine.

Marveling at the wild woman, I still feared her solitude as I captured her shadow, the isolation solidifying her lack of trust, turning one’s heart cold and speech bitter. The world shamed her for her lack of submission to patriarchal standards, maiming her an outcast of undeveloped community. She was ostracized, and in her exile was forced to nurture light in the midst of darkness. Her nature always frightened me– the threat of loneliness fastening tightly to my neck, going against my nomadic, communal nature. I ran away from the wild woman even as she beckoned me to a quiet patio to write tales of the divine, placing my forehead upon Gods plentiful earth, crooning in the arms of her bitter shadow until I was forced to see her beauty. Its amazing how stubbornly we run from that which we know can save us.

In calling in her archetype, I honor the nature of who I’ve always been and allow myself to step into the simple authenticity of being me. Peeling away each layer of identity underneath, I discover primal essence and return to the spiritual nature derived from God’s very breath. And in that moment, I realized that the wild woman was only called so because she had the courage the break loose of ego’s chains and do what everyone swore they could not.

Return to heaven by setting herself free.

This is the reopening of the journey of the wild woman.

xx Heaven

Surrendering to Liminal Space

–
liminal space
the “in between”
that moment when waiting for a call
but signals never quite picks up
or perhaps the dial tone rings
reminding you of words you’d wish you’d said
now never to be uttered
it’s the space of nothingness
yet holding each possibility
feet aching over journeys traveled
then noticing the road’s spiraled into a dense river
with no boat to cross
its that moment before the ending
right after the climax
when all that is heard is steady beating in chests
cramping in their stomach
shoulders hijacked toward the crown
sweet, perchance detrimental anticipation
time truly seems to pause in the liminal
steady whispers of “haven’t you been here before?”
“are you excited to see what happens next,”
“or does it haunt you?”
battles unwon but not quite defeated
the waiting game birthing unease,
impatience,
anxiety
in liminal space
that feeling of lack of control
trying to hold on to yesterdays memories
as a means of predicting tomorrow
its like grasping sand between tense fingers
the tiniest shards cutting into subtle skin
insignificant pebbles marking impressionable membranes
only to see its flight thorough diminutive passageways
i suppose this lesson has never been easy
even in quiet moments of recognition
im aware all of the secrets of the universe slip beyond what feeble minds could grasp
if it could grasp anything at all
with a Creator so expansive
so wise, All-Knowing
i suppose all the best surprises are first kept secret
in letting go of the need to predict
trusting infinite wisdom
settling into lifes deaths
i suppose i still am getting accustomed
to breathing in the stillness of liminal space

Xx Heaven

Healing as a Community Effort

My Home

One of the biggest core wounds I’ve had to heal is doubting myself. Perhaps, it stems from generational trauma: a burden earned from my identity as a Black Muslim woman in North America. I can remember from the time I began grade school that I had in innate need to excel. And this need was driven by a passion to be accepted, to be validated in ways that perhaps my ancestors could not have for themselves. My mother would constantly remind: “You have to work three times just as hard as the next person. Why? You are black, you are Muslim and you are a woman. You are the most hated thing this country has ever seen but never let that deter you from your destiny.”

Memories like these haunt me as I sit in spaces of people dripping of privilege. While I cannot deny my own privilege (having the means and intellect to read, write and work in well-known and established institutions), I cannot deny the trauma experienced from having my hopes and dreams seemingly mitigated by shields of disadvantage. And believe me: I am not the only one. What say you of those whom have been wrongfully incarcerated; having their rights stripped away? What say you of working-class families, whose parents did not have the opportunity to send their children to private schools, colleges and universities? Or immigrant families, forced from their homes into a spaces where they are unwelcomed, ostracized from society as the “other”. We live in a society that separates us not only by color, but by class through means of mental acuity, physique and economic standing.

For those of us whom are deeply empathetic to the struggles of others, we often ask ourselves “what can I do to help”? Its quite admirable honestly; even with our own innate feelings of unworthiness, we still stand for others. But even this can be a trap. How can one untether themselves from their own trauma through fighting for anothers? I must be candid and ask- who will stand and fight for yours? Nevertheless, it is often through this cyclical cycle of seeking healing externally that God grants us the wisdom to finally be able forgive ourselves in ways that we never could before. Our stories are just stories: a culmination of memories, experiences and perceptions all charged with the task of bringing us to your depths. Of helping us understand ourselves. And perhaps…perhaps through this revelation, one finds the strength to look in the mirror and accept who they see. Beautifully so, as time has proven through hearing each others stories, staring at familiar and unfamiliar faces and images, visiting spaces that reminds of us of home, reflecting on the uniqueness of each of our stories—we somehow find healing.

I don’t claim to know everything, in fact I believe that I barely know anything at all. But what I am sure of is that through seeing the humanity of one another, we build systems of healing. I know that through supporting works derived from intrinsic truths, we project strength that allows for others to stand in their own authenticity. I’ve witnessed how beautifully and intricately interconnected we are to one another and how this connection is proof in a greater Divine being that ties us all together.

We all have healing to do. We have generations of trauma, of withstanding pain, of quietly allowing injustice to breed resentment within our being. From these passions given to us from The One we are called to a higher purpose of embodying the righteous qualities that exists within God Himself. We are called to a higher purpose of breaking illusions–helping one another, being kind, reminding one another who we truly are. We are called to a higher purpose of experiencing this existence. Of experiencing humanness, of experiencing Him. Be sure that your experience is one that is well-worth the journey.